


Five Ways Sho Tops Ohno

by elfiepike



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: 5 Things, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-16
Updated: 2006-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-13 13:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfiepike/pseuds/elfiepike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for a comment meme.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Five Ways Sho Tops Ohno

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aeslis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeslis/gifts).



> Written for a comment meme.

**five.** "Sho-kun," Ohno says, "Sho-kun."

Sho looks up from his magazine. Ohno's forehead is wrinkled in between his eyebrows, his mouth slack with concentration: a classic pondering expression for Ohno.

"What's up?" Sho asks.

Ohno leans over, holding out his book. "What's this one--"

"--this one?" Sho blinks, tells him what it is, and thinks: it's a good thing we don't keep him around for his brain.

(He immediately feels bad for it, but Ohno doesn't mind asking for help, so.)

 **four.** Sho thinks Ohno is just short enough for him to be the perfect height: Sho can rest with his elbow on Ohno's shoulder _easy_.

 **three.** After they record _cool & soul_, Ohno falls back onto the sofa, satisfied. "Sho-kun," he says, "I'm impressed!"

Sho takes a long, slow swallow from his water bottle. He's feeling satisfied, too; the five of them recording something like that all together--it makes him feel energetic and alive. "With what?"

"Your rapping," Ohno says, pointing directly at Sho. "It's more like you all the time."

Sho laughs. He's not entirely sure what that means.

"I couldn't use words like that," Ohno continues. "It's impressive."

 **two.** Sho comes into the meeting early and Ohno is already there, sitting at the table and gazing off into space. "Morning, Satoshi-kun," Sho says. He puts his bag down on the table and turns the chair around so he's sitting in it backwards, facing Ohno.

"Morning, Sho-kun," Ohno says, blinking out of his daze.

Aiba comes in literally seconds later, smiling when he sees them. "How was your date, Shochan?"

"You went on a date?" Ohno asks.

"Eh," Sho says. "My friends set me up with this girl they know."

"So," Aiba says, "how did it _go_?"

Sho is always somewhat jealous that Aiba's managed to have the same girlfriend for almost three years, despite demanding tour schedules and the bizarre bite marks that Aiba comes with. "It went," Sho starts, but isn't sure how to continue. "Well--she's very nice. I think I'd like to see her again, if we can make the time."

Aiba wiggles his eyebrows suggestively; the expression looks very silly. " _And_?"

"Aibachan, I like to consider myself a gentleman," Sho says, chuckling anyway.

Ohno perks up--well, as much as Ohno ever does, looking between Aiba and Sho. "What does that mean?"

They both look at him. "He wants to wear waistcoats," Aiba offers.

Ohno looks at Sho again, clearly trying to picture Sho in a waistcoat.

Sho scowls. "It _means_ ," he says, "that I don't kiss and tell. When was the last time you went on a date, anyway?"

Ohno thinks. "Hm."

Jun and Nino come in, then, Jun chuckling and Nino smiling; Nino has probably just made some worthwhile observation about the state of humanity. He's fond of doing that in the morning.

Ohno, distracted easily, stares outright at Nino.

"Morning, everyone," Nino says, sitting next to Aiba.

"Two weeks," Ohno says.

Jun pulls out the chair next to Sho, leaving three on the end for the heads of production. "What's two weeks?" he asks, crossing his legs and slouching at an unconsciously precise angle.

Ohno blinks and touches his nose with the back of his hand absentmindedly. "The last time I went on a date."

Sho doesn't consider himself the greatest observer of people, but _really_.

"With a _girl_?" Aiba asks.

The heads of production come in then, before Ohno can answer. Sho thinks he's okay living with the mystery if Nino's cocky smirk is anything to go by.

 **one.** Ohno doesn't ever ask outright, ever. Sho has to know by the way Ohno stands as if he's ready to move in all directions at once. He has to know by how Ohno won't look at him for more than a moment, then blinks and looks away, at his feet or his hands or anything but Sho. Ohno's hands will clench and relax, held stiff by the side of his body.

Ohno doesn't really have to say things outright when his body language is so obvious, framed in the doorway of Sho's hotel room, the overhead light yellow on his face, his hair highlighted by the hall lamps.

Still, Sho thinks, it's the thought that counts. "What's on your mind?" He puts down his pen next to him on the bed; he'd been writing his cousin a letter.

Ohno says, "Can I come in?"

"You're already in, right? Come in, shut the door." Sho slides on top of the comforter and moves so he's sitting mostly-upright, his feet on the floor. He's intends to herd Ohno inside if he has to.

Ohno shuts the door, and sits on the second (completely unnecessary, Sho always thought) bed, across from Sho, mimicking Sho's posture: feet flat, knees apart, slouching just a bit.

He's looking at Sho now, looking at him and licking his lips, just a little flick of his tongue that is for Ohno one of many small physical habits, but it captures Sho's attention.

Sho can feel his body get warmer, and then his brain catches up: ah, we've done this before.

They had both been drunk at the time, of course.

But--

Sho shifts a little, leans close, but he's not sure, his understanding of Ohno's mind isn't perfect and he wants to be _sure_ \--

Ohno swallows, his throat moving. His hands clench on his knees, unclench, and he reaches out with one, his palm warm and a little sweaty on Sho's knee.

Their bodies remember better than they do, Sho's pulse strong under his skin, an echo in the palm of Ohno's hand. The beds are close enough that he doesn't have to move more than few inches and then he's closing his eyes and kissing Ohno, open-mouthed and slow, slow, like time is stopping for this.

Ohno makes a noise that Sho doesn't have the words to describe: low, keening, wordless and wanting. Ohno's hands are both resting lightly on Sho's chest but moving like he wants more than anything to be holding on tight--

Sho surges forward, pushing himself off the one bed, the balls of his feet connecting solidly with the carpeting like a pivot point, Ohno resisting but completely not, like his body is new to him and he still doesn't know how to get it to do what he wants.

Don't think so hard, Sho wants to say; he feels heady and strange. He pulls back, breathing heavily, resting his weight on hands on either side of Ohno's head. Ohno blinks, dazed, curling his fingers in Sho's t-shirt, his legs around Sho's hips. His lips glisten.

Sho almost can't ask, he's not sure what he wants, but he's sure he wants something--. "Can I--" he starts, "I mean--do you want--"

Ohno's nodding before Sho's even half-finished, "Yeah," he says, and he looks down, and then up Sho's torso. "Can you take off your shirt?"

"Okay," Sho says. He gets up awkwardly, taking off his shirt in one motion, and does a clumsy hopping step around his shoes to get to his bag. He knows he has lotion in there--ah, there.

When he turns around, Ohno's already shimmied out of his jeans and shorts and is sitting up, his shirt halfway off his head, his arms caught somehow. Ohno's belly is moving in little hitching curves as he struggles; he's hard.

Sho trips over his shoes in the two steps back, catching himself against the side of one of the beds, holding the lotion in one hand and undoing his belt buckle with the other. He can't look away from Ohno, he can't look away.

He somehow ends up stepping out of his pants, knees against the bed, his free hand grabbing the hem of Ohno's shirt and yanking it hard, up. Ohno's hair is all over the place in a way that would normally be laughable, but the way Ohno's looking at him and panting, his chest naked and moving--

Ohno reaches towards him, and lays his fingertips on Sho's collarbone. The mood is suddenly quiet, intense; again Sho can feel Ohno's heartbeat echoing his own. He could be imagining it, he knows, but he thinks that he's not.

He gets onto the bed, kneeling between Ohno's thighs. Ohno just keeps _looking_ at him, and now his hand is flat on Sho's chest, his other hand on his own belly and moving slowly lower.

Sho is generous with the lotion, maybe even moreso than necessary. He's not really paying attention to it, just pouring and watching Ohno's hand creep closer to Ohno's dick--

"Sho--" Ohno says, his voice catching. Sho is immediately caught again by Ohno swallowing, licking his lips-- "Sho, are you--"

Sho sets the bottle of lotion down open on the bed. He breathes in slowly, exhales, and slicks himself up. He looks up again at Ohno--

Ohno moves his hand, the one that's been on Sho's chest all this time, dragging his fingers through the lotion left in the cup of Sho's palm and smearing it on his thighs and balls and dick, messy, like it was paint and he was the canvas. He puts his hands on Sho's sides, smoothing the excess into the skin just beneath Sho's ribs, and holding on, tugging gently. "Are you," Ohno says, and he wiggles, lifting his hips.

Sho can't refuse an invitation like that. There's no way it's possible.

He slides in, slowly, slowly, and Ohno's making a face like he can't quite tell if he likes it yet--Sho repositions himself a little, changing his weight on his knees and pressing forward, and then, oh, Ohno's face can be so remarkably responsive sometimes, and Ohno exhales a sigh that becomes a moan halfway through, closing his eyes.

Sho smiles through his short panting breaths, pulling out--and pushing in again.

It's easy to build a rhythm with Ohno, so easy, whose hobby is designing new and better ways for his body to interact with the bass beat of his newest favorite songs. Ohno's hands are sliding along Sho's skin, clenching and unclenching.

Sho thinks, come on--and changes his weight, freeing one hand so he can help coax Ohno further still, Ohno's dick slick with lotion. This almost requires too much coordination--but then Ohno's clenching, and coming on Sho's chest and his own, and he's so tight and hot--

Sho pulls out afterwards, thinking he should go get a towel from the bathroom or something, but Ohno's just staring up at him like he's going to remember this, he's going to remember Sho's face and think about it later, and he won't dream of anything but this moment.


End file.
